


My Lady

by cowboykylux



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Saturday Night Live References, Snl character, Vaginal Fingering, medieval times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: “My dear Lady.” He whispers, cupping your cheeks in both his hands, a gesture too tender for it being the last time you’ll see him, “You don’t mean…?”“Brave Sir Knight, what would you say if I offered your last memory of this place to be filled with pleasure?” You cut right to the chase, figuring if this be the last time you spend with him, you want to spend it coming all over one another.“I would say,” His breath comes in a shudder, “Get on your knees.”(Aka it's porn of the new character from when Adam Driver hosted SNL this weekend lmao)
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 19
Kudos: 98





	My Lady

You’re waiting by the sidelines, when the show is over. You’ve been watching him all evening, watching his performance. For whatever reason, they let him stay for the whole duration of the dinner, and you were grateful.

Grateful because that means you got to watch him move, got to watch him fight, got to watch those big arms of his flex as he wielded a sword that you knew had some weight to it, you knew. He looked so good, and it was bittersweet, because you had been sent to collect him, had been sent to bring him to the proverbial executioner.

He nearly collides into you, when the show is over. He’s impossibly tall and broad, and the wig he wears is slightly tangled just from all the activity. You’ve seen him without it of course, you’ve seen everyone out of costume before, and he’s just as sexy without it. But there’s something about the way his tunic is soaked through with sweat, about the way his chest heaves from the adrenaline of the performance, about the way he shakes the hair out of his face, that has you biting the inside of your cheek.

“Sir Cameron,” You say, still in character, everyone always having to remain in character, “Lord Steve wants to see you.”

You’ve got your hand braced on his chest to keep him from rushing away, and you can feel it through his tunic, how fast his heart is beating.

“Fuck, I’m probably going to be fired, huh?” He sighs, scratches the back of his neck.

He went too far, he knows he did. He was so caught up in his method acting class, so caught up in the thrill of being an actor, that he went too far. He’d have to go find Gregory and that other nice knight whose name he can’t remember, and apologize as soon as he was done packing up his bags.

“Yeah, probably.” You say sympathetically, your hand still on his chest. “You should follow me, I’ll take you to his office.” You nod your head in the direction of the hallway, and Cameron follows.

The dichotomy between seeing people in poorly designed medieval clothing, and the corporate environment never fails to amuse you, you think as the lavish medieval decoration fades away into white walled hallways with metal doors.

“You know,” You say, just to have something to say, to have some way to break the uncomfortable silence that had formed between the two of you, “I really enjoyed your performance tonight.”

“You did?” Cameron asks, surprised, his eyebrows raised.

“Mhm,” You smile over your shoulder at him, only able to keep your eyes on him for a moment, before your own thoughts derailed. “I thought you were a noble knight, avenging the death of your wife and son.”

Cameron slows to a stop, and in turn so do you, and you can see the gears turning in his head when he picks up what you’re putting down, when he realizes that you want to indulge him in his acting, in his fantasy that he’s made up to supplement the character in the show.

He didn’t mean to cause the whole thing to be a disaster, not really. He had just gotten so into it, had just wanted to make it better than it was. You knew that. You respected that.

“’Tis all I wanted, now they may rest peacefully.” Cameron says solemnly. No longer is he rage-filled, after having killed the King and Princess, now he is soft spoken, and looks at you with even softer eyes.

It’s just the two of you in the hallway, so you dare to take a step closer, you dare to let your fingers toy with the end of his braid, as you lick your lips entirely too suggestively.

“Has it been long?” You look up at him through your lashes, your hands bracing themselves on his chest as you press your body against his, “Since you’ve felt a woman’s touch, I mean.”

You’re worried for a minute that he’ll push you away, that you’ve crossed a line, over-stepped a boundary. But then he’s gripping your arm tightly with one of his bear-paws for hands, and he’s leading you around the corner and down a different hall, one that doesn’t lead anywhere near the regional manager’s office.

Instead, when he opens a door it’s to an empty supply closet, and you nearly squeal from excitement because yes, _yes,_ he wants you too. He allows you to enter first, and when he follows behind you he closes the door, shutting out the light with it, and locks it from the inside to ensure no one disturbs you.

“My dear Lady.” He whispers, cupping your cheeks in both his hands, a gesture too tender for it being the last time you’ll see him, “You don’t mean…?”

“Brave Sir Knight, what would you say if I offered your last memory of this place to be filled with pleasure?” You cut right to the chase, figuring if this be the last time you spend with him, you want to spend it coming all over one another.

“I would say,” His breath comes in a shudder, “Get on your knees.”

You fall easily, wasting no time. You know people will be looking for him soon, they’ll come looking, so you have to make this quick. It’s not ideal, but you’re already on your knees and you’re already undoing the laces of his leather trousers.

“Oh shit.” You whisper when you pull out his cock, when it’s hard and already leaking at the tip, leaking just for you. You can’t see it, not in the dark of the closet, but you can feel it – and it feels huge.

“Sorry, I know it’s big I – ” He breaks character, suddenly shy, suddenly self-conscious. If you had more time you’d kiss him, but as it is, you only stroke the length of his dick, your mouth watering as your brain tries to figure out how the hell to do about doing this.

“Don’t apologize, I just don’t think I’ll be able to fit it all in my mouth.” You say, an apology in your own way. Even though it’s dark you can see the impression of him shaking his head, the beads that secure the end of his braids rattling where they clink together.

“That’s okay, (Y/N), it’s okay, do what you can, what you want.” He’s sweet, too sweet to you as he cards his fingers through your hair, and your chest warms at the evidence that he knows your name. You wonder if he’s been watching you just as long as you’ve been watching him.

Without any further hesitation, you guide the head of his cock to your tongue, lick up the salty pre-come that’s started to leak out of him. Almost immediately the hand in your hair tightens, almost immediately he takes a step forward, wanting to shove himself down your throat. It’s an involuntary movement of his hips, one that he apologizes for with a caress of your face from his free hand, and you smile, nuzzle your face into the palm, even as you lick a thick stripe up the shaft.

“Jesus,” He lets out low and long, curses as you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, as you begin to suck on it, guiding him down down down your throat. “(Y/N), fuck.”

His dick is long, but the bigger issue is that it’s girthy, your fingertips barely meet when your hands wrap around him. You relax your throat and depress your tongue as flat as it’ll go, as you encourage his hips to sink his cock into the tight wet heat of your mouth.

“You’re so good, so good,” He groans, filling you with pride, “So beautiful.”

That comment makes you flush, because how does he know what you look like, there in the dark?

There’s not much space in the supply closet, but you don’t need much space, not when you’re trying to get as close to Cameron as possible. He helps, helps by fucking his cock into your throat, helps by thrusting his hips down into you, against your tongue, mindful of your teeth. He moans as he does it, has to bite down on the inside of his cheek, on the sleeve of his tunic, to not be so loud as he moans groans begs for you to suck his dick.

And you do, you hollow out your cheeks and suck hard, again and again until he’s panting, until he’s trembling all over, the character completely forgotten.

“You – You should stop, I’m going…oh fuck, I’m going to come.” He warns.

You only hum around him, you don’t let up the pace, not one bit. You pull him out of your throat so that the head of his cock rests on your tongue, and you accept the load he blows all over your face, swallow down the come that’s surprisingly sweet, surprisingly not so salty and bitter like you had expected.

“Get up here,” He whispers, somehow still strong enough to hoist you up onto your feet, knees protesting from kneeling for so long, “Let me take care of you.”

His hands are already roaming, already sliding around your body, hiking up the skirts of your own costume.

“You don’t have to.” You say, breathy, even though you do nothing to stop him, even though you encourage him.

“I want to, (Y/N),” He whispers, pausing to get close to you, to try and look at you in the dark. His nose bumps against yours, and suddenly his hands are back cupping your cheeks, and his breath is somehow minty on your lips. “I really want to. Can I kiss you?”

“Please, please do.” You surrender yourself to him, offering yourself up to him.

His lips are plush and soft when they meet yours, his shoulders are broad and strong when your arms wind around them. He sighs into your mouth like a parched man taking his first drink, drinks down your moans as one of his hands drifts away from your face and shoves into the waistband of your skirt, dips beneath your panties.

You’re so wet for him, have always been so wet for him. It’s almost embarrassing how badly you’ve wanted him, ever since you started working there only a few months ago. It would be embarrassing anyway, if it weren’t so clear that he wanted you back.

His fingers were much like your tongue in that they wasted little time sliding through your soaked folds, his blunt nails digging into your walls, fingers curled as he stroked your pussy from the inside out. His big thumb swirls little circles on your clit, and you almost fall backwards at the blinding pleasure of it all.

“Cameron!” You’re startled, your grip on his shoulders the only thing keeping you from crashing into the shelves of the supply closet.

“Tell me what you like.” He kisses you, kisses your cheek, fingers slowly pumping in and out of you.

“Faster, please.” You ask, needing to get off soon, needing to come, otherwise you’d demand him to fuck you with that big cock of his right then and there. He nods, kisses your cheek, licks at the corner of your mouth while his thumb speeds up, leaving you panting, “Yes just like that – yes.”

“Shh, shh, you have to be quiet,” He kisses you, so sweet that he’s concerned for you, “They’ll hear and then you’ll get in trouble too.”

“I don’t give a shit, I’m quitting.” You admit, huff out a laugh and a moan and a sigh and a gasp as his fingers shove themselves up further into you. “I hate it here – god your hands are huge.”

You can’t tell if he’s got two, or three, or his whole fucking fist up in your pussy, but you never want it to stop, never.

“Everything about me is big, I’m afraid.” He’s shy again, strangely shy for a man who was just angrily spitting on the floor an hour ago.

“I love it, I want it.” You moan, wishing that you were naked, wishing he could pinch at your tits, your stiff nipples, something, anything, “I wish you could fuck me.”

“When I fuck you,” Cameron says, and you clench hard around his hand at the promise of _when_ , not _if_ , “It’s going to be in the softest, biggest bed you’ve ever slept in. Nothing less is worthy to support your back while I blow it out.”

“C—Cameron!” You gasp, coming, coming coming coming on his hand, right as his fingers find your gspot and make the whole supply closet go bright white.

You’re both dizzy from the whole thing, when it’s over. It’s hot and humid in the closet, your hands slipping on the leather of his tunic, his hands slipping on the steamed-up walls. You’re both exhausted, both covered in sweat, but neither of you want to let the other go.

Your orgasm fades beautifully, into a slow pleasant ache between your legs. Your thighs are a mess of come, enough that it’ll probably chafe if you don’t wipe yourself down with something first – a thought which Cameron interrupts by tearing off a piece of paper-towel from a roll he happened to find on one of the shelves.

He wipes himself up and puts his cock away, and then you can feel his hands on your skin, gentle and careful to not hurt you.

“We really have to go to Steve’s office now, huh?” He asks quietly as he cleans you up with a fresh paper-towel that he rips from the roll.

He’s sad now. Before he had only been in love with you from afar, had only been obsessed with you in the privacy of his own head. Now though, now it was real, and you felt something for him too, and you’d probably never see one another again.

“Yeah.” You reply softly, before cupping his cheek in one of your hands, letting him nuzzle there just as you had done, two overly affectionate people finding themselves in the strangest of circumstances. “Promise me something?”

“Of course.” Cameron says right away, and even in the dark, you can see his eyes are bright with hope.

“Come find me after the show tomorrow, take me out to dinner.” You instruct, your arms tightening around his shoulders once again, your lips only millimeters away from his own. “Maybe to a movie, I don’t care. Just take me somewhere I can see you, somewhere I can kiss you out in the open.”

And he opens the door then, making sure you’re cleaned and dressed properly, because he wants to see the look on your face, wants to watch the moment he tells you, wants to witness the exact instant you begin to smile, when he holds you close and kisses you once more and says,

“Anything for my lady.”


End file.
